Modern Warfare 2: Makarov (Remastered)
by ReadyFireAimEmission
Summary: Conspiracies. Betrayal. Revenge. With a personal Vendetta against the world, Vladimir Makarov has only one path before him. This is his story, and his trials and tribulations during the events of Modern Warfare 2. (Remastered for new game canon)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Past and The Future**

 _Let me do it, I can do it, whatever happens, we can handle-"  
"No, its to risky and extreme, we can't afford the consequences if something were to go wrong."  
"But if everything goes to plan, it would greatly-"  
"No is my final answer, it is not happening. If you ever want to lead, you need to look before you leap, something you have yet to learn, Makarov."_

Light filled Vladimir Makarov eyes as he awoke from his sleep. The early morning dew lightly filled his nose as breathed a sigh of displeasure. He had had another dream about him, before he had taken his place, before he had died. Imran Zakhaev, his mentor and predecessor, the man he had followed, and the man who had held him back. But times were different now, and the past mattered little when you were the one writing the future, and that is what Makarov would do; Finish Zakhaev dream of a new Russia free from the west, and to create a new dominant world superpower, something not seen since the Cold War. Makarov would finish his work, only this time, he would do it his way.

As Makarov got dressed, he looked at himself in the bedroom mirror. Slender, with black hair and slight stubble on his chin and face, he stared at the man looking back at him through the mirror. His eyes met his in a silent stare. The right eye was a clear, icy blue, the other, a light green, all thanks to Heterochromia Iridium. It added to his demeanor, making him look more like a mad man. He wonder how long he could last, how long it would take before he would meet his goals. Makarov only smiled to himself and headed for the front door. "Only four days" he reminded to himself, and stepped out the front door.

As he opened the door and walked out, he was greeted by a crisp morning breeze blowing gently through the trees. Makarov paused at the front porch, surveying the landscape around the estate. It was a mixture of fields and forests with a lake itself behind the estate itself. The high mountains were reflected off its crystal clear surface.

" _Peaceful"_ Makarov thought to himself. He had frown fond of his safehouse estate, being his home away from home, as well as central base of operations. Makarov only sighed, knowing that this would be the last time he would probably see this place, there would be no turning back now.

Makarov continued on his route towards a single parked van. The van had the markings of an ambulance, with sirens and lights to match.

Makarov approached the ambulance from the back doors and took out a single silver key. He inserted the key into the door's lock and opened it, and jumped in the back. The ambulance had been stripped of all of it's original equipment, leaving a big storage space. The only thing that had remained was the compartments that were used to store various medical tools and supplies, and even that too was converted into storage.

As Makarov placed his bag into one of the storage containers, he looked around and took mental note of the van's contents.

The ambulance had become a mobile armory, with enough ammunition for at least ten men. Locked and secured into place along the side were nearly 4 dozen boxes of ammunition, each with a combination padlock.

Held on racks above were the guns themselves: Two M4A1 Carbines, Two M240 light machine guns, and a Striker Shotgun. First aid supplies, maps, schematics, and duffel bags sat in the other compartments of the van. And near the front of the van hanging on a hanger, was a single, drycleaned black suit and matching pants.

It was all here, everything they would need was all in front of him, ready to go. Makarov walked to the front of the van and stepped into the drivers seat. It would be a long drive to Moscow, giving him time to collect his thoughts and prepare for the days ahead. As Makarov turned the ignition and started down the driveway. As he come to the end before the service road, he paused and reminded himself again:

"4 days, 4 days and we'll be one step closer to our goal Zakhaev."


	2. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Chapter 2: The Enemy of My Enemy**

As Makarov drove down the freeway, he thought back to the dream he had had. It wasn't long ago that he felt he would never finish Zakhaev'swork, or his own. Over the years, he had become an obvious threat to the public. The world had labeled him a terrorist, a mastermind behind countless bombings and kidnappings, but still just a terrorist. He wanted to be more. He wanted to change the world, starting with Russia herself. He wanted a Russia that Zakhaev had worked so hard for, and had come so close, only to be killed trying to achieve such a dream. Makarov knew that it would be hard, but now it seemed like he was getting nowhere, not even close to the level that Zakhaev had achieved. He had run out of ideas, run out of plans, that is, until he received a visit from an unusual and unlikely individual.

 _ **Two Weeks Ago.**_

"Makarov sir, he's here."

"Send him in Yuri."

"Yes sir."

Makarov watched as a man walked through the doorway into his dimly lit office. The man's figure was tall, commanding and strong. As he came into the light, Makarov's eyes widened in surprise, but quickly narrowed in disgust. He had seen this face before, more than enough times, more then he wanted to as well.

"I'm surprised to see you, given that fact 'who' you are." Makarov said.

The man said nothing and took a seat in front of the desk. He pulled out a single lighter and cigar and started to smoke.

"And who am I, in your eyes?" the man asked.

"A killer, a fiend, and a public enemy to most." Makarov answered, careful not to take his eyes off the man.

The man only chuckled, unimpressed; "Funny" he replied "I have the same thoughts about you."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because I am a client, in need of a certain service."

"And what makes you think I'll help you?" Makarov asked.

"Because I can give you something your other clients can't, something worth more than money." The man answered.

"And that would be?"

"Revenge."

Revenge. That single word had been a part of Makarov's life for nearly five years. It was the one of the few things he wanted, one of the few things he truly strived for, but was always out of his reach. No amount of killings or money could solve it. It was like a ghost, slowly driving him insane, never leaving him in peace. It was something he needed to be rid of.

"And what makes you think you can help me, of all people?" Makarov asked, his patience beginning to break.

"Because I'm in a position you will never get to, no matter what you do." The man answered. "I can bring something to the table that others can't."

"Please, enlighten me."

The man place a single black and white photo on his desk. The photo pictured four men. Makarov instantly recognized one of the men in the photo. He looked the oldest out of the group. He had a mustache and beard, and wore a boonie hat. Makarov knew this man well, his hatred for the man was one of the greatest things he carried with him.

"You recognize anyone in this photo?" the man asked.

"Yes." Makarov said quietly, his eyes resting on the photo.

"Then I think you know what I'm offering here."

Makarov simply nodded. Whatever it took, he would have every man in this photo killed, even if it meant working for this American.

"What do you need from me?"

The man pulled out another photo, this time, of an airport; it was very large, definitely for a major city.

"Zakhaev International Airport." The man said as he hand him the photo. "The largest airport in Moscow and your next target."

Makarov studied the photo, looking closer at the details of the building. He had seen it before, even had taken a flight out of it once. It would obviously different this time.

"What do you want to happen?" Makarov asked.

"Only a massacre of innocent men and women at an airport by a well known terrorist" The man answered simply.

Makarov raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Well, there is more."

"Out with it then."

The man spoke in a darker tone. "The key to this is that it has to look like something else, something caused not by a psychopath, but rather an organized attack."

"An attack from whom?"

"The American Government."

Now the man had really stunned Makarov. An unprovoked attack against Russia from the United States would quickly start a war, given the current relations between the two. Why would an American want his own country attacked? It made no sense; there was no logic behind it. For him though, it would be an opportunity lifetime, to have the Americans a common enemy of all of Russia. It would put the whole country at his side, and give the Ultranationalists full military and political power in Russia. It would be the first step towards fulfilling Zakhaev's dream.

But what would the American gain from this? Makarov was right to have his suspensions, as anyone would be.

"Why would you want a war against your own country, what would you gain, if anything?" Makarov asked.

"It is an unusual request, but it works to my liking. You see, you're not the only one who wants their country changed. The United States is the most powerful military force on the planet, no matter what you think. That is what made us who we are, and I want to make sure it stays that way."

"So you want fame and notoriety?"

"I wouldn't call it something as trivial as that"

"So what are your goals then?"

"Same as yours." The man replied. "Power, Revenge, and a country that the world recognizes for what it truly is."

"I still don't like helping you." Makarov said.

"Are you familiar with the old saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"Yes I am. It describes two enemies united together against a common foe that threatens both of them. I'm assuming you're using it as an analogy to us?"

"Correct." The man replied. "We both have a goal. We both have the same enemy. You know there isn't another option. If you ever want to achieve your goals, you need my help, as much as you hate to admit it. So what do you say, can we talk business, friend?"

Makarov smirked. "I believe we can, Shepherd."

It had been two long weeks, but the conversation was still clearly stuck in Makarov's head as he drove to Moscow. The reasoning and comparison Shepherd had given him still made little sense in his eyes; to him it was a reckless move. Still, the opportunity for him was too hard to pass up, and if it worked, it would accelerate his plans, and eliminate any rivals in a bid for power against him. To Makarov, Shepherd was getting taken for a ride on his side of the deal, a win win for Makarov. Shepherd enjoys he fifteen minutes of fame and gets all that and more.

Makarov quietly smiled to himself, _Easiest payoff ill ever make…_

Makarov turned off the freeway in to a secluded rest area. Fatigued from the all day marathon of driving, he gladly welcomed some R and R. Makarov pulled a sleeping bag and pillow from a top compartment and spread it out in the back of the van. Tomorrow he'd reach the safe house in Moscow, as well as the men in the operation. Makarov closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow, the preparation would begin.


	3. Deep Cover

**Chapter 3: Deep Cover**

The Alarm next to Makarov went off, taking him back into the world. He quickly turned it off and got up. He was anxious to get to Moscow and meet up with the others to go over the plan for the operation. He would make ensure that it would go smoothly and perfectly. No slip ups, no mistakes.

Despite being viewed by the world as a homicidal mad dog killer; a man with seemingly no agenda and an unquenchable thirst for blood, Makarov was in reality, a brilliant strategist. Anyone can bring a high powered rifle to a hospital or mall and kill everyone one in sight. But what separated Makarov from the amateurs is that he could always get away, fighting another day. It was the one thing that had got him on the cover page of the national news.

He could do these things, and could outthink anyone who tried to take him down. Despite all their resources, the powers at are easily predictable. And once you see a pattern, victory is easily achieved.

To Makarov, it was like a game of chess, always thinking one step ahead of your opponent, trying to gain the upper hand in an engagement, and always thinking about the consequences of every action you make. Over the years, he would enjoy outsmarting and frustrating the police or the Russian Special Forces, a natural high for him, and all thanks to his brain. It was the one thing he could always rely on, the one talent that had put him as the Commander of the Ultranationalist forces, and not his rivals.

No detail would go untouched, no aspect would be overlooked. Shepherd would get his war, just as promised, and Makarov would get something much greater in return…

 _ **TWO WEEKS AGO**_

" _It needs to go perfectly, everything must fall into place, and I can't stress the importance of this enough."_

" _You won't need to. Just tell me needs to be done and it will get done."_

Makarov was staring directly at Shepherd as he spoke, not showing any signs of being intimidated by the general, almost needing to prove to him that he wasn't going to back out on him. Shepherd paused, studying his would be adversity carefully, and sighed.

"Very well, heres what you need to do."

He opened a leather suitcase and pulled a single brown envelope from it and opened it. He pulled out a series of papers that Makarov assumed would be part of Shepherd's plan. Shepherd place the papers on his desk and slid them over. Makarov's eyes were attracted to the red stamped marked _CLASSIFIED_ across the page. Makarov scanned the page and read the description at the top:

CIA DEEP COVER OPERATION

LANGLEY VIRGINIA, UNITED STATES

AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY

It was a CIA briefing document for an operation to infiltrate the Ultranationalist leadership circle. Makarov smirked quietly to himself. " _How predictable_. _The Americans are already getting nervous about something happening a world away, something they have no business altogether in the first place."_ It wouldn't have surprised Makarov if the British had MI6 trying something as well.

Shepherd returned to speak as Makarov continued to read the document.

"As you can see, you're causing quite a stir in the United States, not to mention internationally." Shepherd said. Makarov couldn't help but laugh a little at the restrained comment. The American only ignored him and continued on.

"The CIA is just one of many defense branches on the lookout for you. Homeland security, the NSA, the FBI, all have you in their sights, but the CIA are going to be the ones to take the first shot at you, and guess who's the one pulling the trigger?"

Makarov paused from his reading and simply glanced up at Shepherd. He gave him a small smile and continued.

"Correct." He answered, "Which gives me full access and control over the op, and any one working on it."

Makarov set the document down and crossed his arms. "And how does this work into you plan?"

Shepherd answered Makarov by pulling another document from the envelope. This time, a photo was attached to it as well. Makarov looked at the document and saw what appeared to be a personal profile, more specifically, that of an American soldier. Makarov's eyes darted from the document to the photo next to it and studied it. It was a single profile shot of a young man, probably in his early to mid twenties he had dark hair, green eyes, and olive toned skin. As if reading his mind, Shepherd answered the question in Makarov's head.

"The name of the man in that photo is Joseph Allen, an American ranger who will play an important role in the deep cover op, as well as our plan, even though he doesn't know it yet."

"My plan you mean." Makarov responded coldly.

" _Our_ plan, that _you_ have an involvement in, that is, if you're still interested?" Shepherd replied curtly.

"Please, continue then." Makarov said with an obvious hint of sarcasm.

"Thank you." Shepherd continued to explain.

"The deep cover op's main objective is the infiltration the Ultranationalist Party from an undercover CIA agent, in this case, Joseph Allen. He would then work to earn the trust the organization and supply the CIA with intel to use in the future against the Ultranationalists, if they were to ever threaten the U.S. But that won't be the case."

Makarov raised an eyebrow. "What will be the "Case" then?"

Shepherd leaned in closer to Makarov and spoke in a more serious tone. "He won't live long enough to complete his objective."

"I'm assuming that were I would come in?" Makarov asked.

"Only if necessary, but it's crucial that he doesn't survive." Shepherd replied coldly.

"And exactly why?" Makarov asked again.

"In order to prove his loyalty, he's to be tested, hence, the reason for the airport attack. And trust me, he will try to prove his loyalty, no matter the cost."

At that point, it all made sense to Makarov. If an American CIA agent could be linked to a terrorist attack, it would be the perfect scapegoat for and all of Russia would be screaming for revenge against the Americans, and the United States couldn't do a thing to cover it up. It would be the perfect crime scene to the biggest hoax in history.

"I understand your idea, but its going to require even more than just the framing of an American." Makarov stated.

"True, you and whatever men you use will have to pull a little act as will. Nothing hard, just little things that will sell the image." Shepherd replied.

"Using American manufactured weapons would be a good start." Makarov said

"Precisely." Shepherd answered. "The weapons will be supplied to you from a source that can be further linked to the CIA. Are you familiar with the arms dealer Alex the Red?"

Makarov recognized the name instantly. Alejandro Rojas, a well known arms dealer in South America as well as the Far East. Rojas was only a small arms dealer before Makarov had found him. A weapons clerk for the KGB during the cold war, Makarov helped Rojas start his own black market operation after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Rojas was grateful for Makarov support and closely supported him in return. In truth, the only reason he had helped Rojas was it provided Makarov with another source of income in another country, just another contact. To Makarov, Rojas was piece of trash to him, be a liability more times than a valuable ally. He could now care less what happened to him.

"Yes, I know him, unfortunately." Makarov replied.

"Well, despite what history you have with the man, he will be supplying the assault" Shepherd stated.

"It makes little difference to me, make no mistake about that."

"I'll have numerous weapons delivered to a location to your preference. Just take the extras as part of your payment." Shepherd replied.

"How sweet of you." Makarov replied sarcastically.

As Shepherd got up, he took the envelope and put it back into the suitcase. He then turn back to Makarov one last time.

"I'll leave the rest to you. Here's a copy of the operation, as well as Allen's record. I'll contact you after you complete your side of the bargain."

"My payment, I assume?" Makarov asked.

"Every cent will be promised. Just do your job, and you'll get what you want." Shepherd responded. "Good luck Mr. Makarov"

"You can get out of my office now" Makarov snapped.

Shepherd only smiled and calmly headed for the exit. As he reached for the handle, he paused and turned back to Makarov.

"One last thing." Shepherd said. "Make sure you only speak English."

Makarov glanced up to Shepherd as he started to open the door. "No Russian?"

Shepherd gave a small nod. "No Russian." He answered and walked out the door.  
_

Makarov looked ahead to see the skyline of Moscow with the setting orange sun behind it. He had finally made it. Now he could get started with going organizing the plan with the others. As Makarov drove down the busy city street, he quickly turned off the main junction into a small narrow alley, and parked the van.

He grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder and got out. How good it felt to walk again after two days. He went down a flight of metal of steps until he got to the bottom to which he was greeted by a metal door and a dim light lighting the doorway. He knocked at the door five times, pausing between the 2nd and 4th knock.

Makarov heard footsteps and a shadow briefly covering the small peephole. The sounds of a combination of locks being switched and unlocked echoed in the small area. The door then opened to a familiar face.

"Good to see you Makarov, glad you made it."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Anatoly."


	4. Team Players

**Chapter 4: Team Players**

The heavy oak door swung shut behind and the numerous locks were reset and secured. Makarov surveyed what would be his temporary home for the next day. The place was small and tight, almost like living in a basement. There were no windows, no sunlight. The place had a slight musky smell and hadn't been renovated in years. The place seem to have been forgotten by everyone else going on with their lives

In the biggest room of the safe house were Makarov stood was the main living room. Despite its size, it managed to cram a single old sofa and a big table, complete with chairs surrounding it. The whole room itself was lit by a single hanging lamp, providing sufficient light to navigate it safely.

As Makarov walked from the living room to his room, he passed through the small kitchen that was directly to the living room itself, which was basically a combination of an old stove, a sink, and a fridge. The cabinets were old and dusty, some missing doors none the less. It seemed to be the last place you want to eat a meal, let alone prepare one.

A hallway led Makarov past a small bathroom with an old shower and sink with a mirror hanging above it. He continued past a series of doors till he reached the one in the way back. He opened it to a simple bedroom. The bedroom was small with room for only for a bed and nightstand.

Simple was the obvious word to describe it, but it mattered little to him. It would serve its purpose and the thought of sleeping in a bed was appealing enough to overlook the obvious flaws. Makarov had enough of sleeping in the back of an ambulance, not an experience he had enjoyed.

He set his rut sack on the bed and returned to the main room to be greeted by an his friend.

"Long time, no see my friend!" the man said, shaking Makarov's hand while talking "How was the drive?"

"Boring and uneventful." Makarov replied, returning the handshake. "Something that you could easily find enjoyment in Anatoly."

Anatoly only grinned. "You think you know me so well."

"Not think, I know." Makarov countered, smiling at his old friend.

Makarov had known Anatoly since his service in the Russian 98th Guard Airborne Division. Being placed same squad, Makarov and Anatoly had quickly became friends, relying on each other to survive basic training as well as actual combat. When Makarov was discharged, Anatoly gladly followed suit, and had helped him since. Loyal, always optimistic, but easily worried, Anatoly could always do what Makarov needed to be done, and would do it right the first time, something he was thankful of.

"Where are the others?" Makarov asked.

"Well I believe Victor should be here within the hour." Anatoly replied. "As for Krill and Lev, well…"

Makarov quickly looked up at Anatoly to see a worried look across his face

"What do you mean _well_?" Makarov asked suspiciously.

"Well," Anatoly began. "Since you hadn't arrived you, they kind of went out a drink, to pass the time…"

"WHAT?" Makarov said harshly. "They went outside?!"

"Yes… I kind of figured you wouldn't like that…" Anatoly quietly said.

"Why didn't you stop them?" Makarov hissed.

"I tried, I swear, but they just laughed and pushed me out of the way, the two are brutes!" Anatoly replied, a panic now in his voice. "I sent Yuri to get them, but-

"If they think they can-

A series of knocks at the door interrupted Makarov. By reaction, both men looked towards the door, both knowing who was behind it, especially Anatoly.

"Anatoly, open the door." Makarov ordered as he started to back towards the hallway out of sight. He would see how they acted while he was away, and then give them quite a lesson.

Anatoly, understanding what Makarov was planning, nodded and headed towards the door, undoing the series of locks, Makarov watching out of sight from the hallway. As Anatoly unlocked the final lock and opened the door, Makarov looked on in disgust as Lev and Krill entered, laughing to one another. Pushing Anatoly out of the way, they half stumbled over to the sofa, both sighing in unison as they sat down.

"So Anna, didn't cry too much while we were gone, did you?" Lev said in a drunken slur. Krill Laughed and replied to Lev.

"He probably was worried sick that we'd never get back." Krill replied. Both men laughed together, clearly drunk.

"I was worried you'd get arrested, and then lead the police to our front door." Anatoly replied.

"Well, look around!" Lev proclaimed loudly. "As you can see, the police are right behind us! As you can tell, with all the banging on the damn door!" Lev and Krill again laughed, Anatoly clearly starting to get annoyed with the two. Makarov would have fun teaching them a lesson.

"If Makarov were to find out that you left the safe house-

"What Makarov doesn't know won't hurt him." Lev retorted.

"And what if, he was to find out, hypothetically of course?" Makarov asked.

Lev and Krill froze and looked in horror to see Makarov staring directly at them, freezing them in their place. Both men stood silent in fear, now suddenly sober.

"M-M-Makarov, sir, we didn't know-" Krill began.

"Know that I had arrived while you two were out on a little date?" Makarov asked.

"Makarov, please, we didn't know that-" Lev said.

"No, you did know, yet you still disobeyed my orders and jeopardized this _ENTIRE_ operation because you two were a little _BORED_!?"

Both men were staring at the ground like kids before a principal, silent and still as statues, Makarov staring them down. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"I have not come this far and this close to be faulted by the stupidity and incompetence of two drunken fools!" Makarov hissed.

"Makarov, please just look around, everything is- Lev began.

Makarov swiftly pulled out his pistol, pointing it directly at the man's temple, silencing him instantly.

"Do not tell me everything is fine. I have been at this for far longer the either of you, so don't act like you have everything under control." Makarov said coldly.

"So you will have me shot for it? Just like that?" Lev asked, uncertainty in his voice.

Makarov slightly lowered his sidearm. He couldn't just shoot them, both Krill and Lev both essential to the operation as much as Makarov hated to admit, and he couldn't be empty handed when the bullets started flying

"No…" Makarov started, now fully lowering his firearm. Lev relaxed a bit, seeing now that the weapon wasn't pointed directly in his face. In the same instant, Makarov flipped the pistol around, holding it by the barrel and struck Lev across the face in one fast swift motion, knocking him out cold instantly.

Krill stepped back, eyes in panic looking down from Lev to Makarov. Anatoly only winced but still looked on.

"But it doesn't mean I can't teach you some discipline." Makarov finished. His gaze went from Lev to Krill.

"Take this piece of drunken trash to his room, and I'd better not see you till morning as well." Makarov snapped,

Krill said nothing and quietly carried Lev to his room. Krill was smart enough when to keep quiet and retreat. As the sound of the bedroom door closed, both Makarov and Anatoly found themselves alone again.

Anatoly sighed. "A little rough don't you think?"

"The only way to teach discipline is to break bad habits." Makarov replied simply. "And that's all I did. Now how much you want to bet they'll never pull that stunt again?"

"Well, its not that I don't doubt you, it just the methods..."

"The methods are only necessary, and they can both still do their jobs, that all that matters to me."

"If you say so."

Makarov pulled a single cheap cigarette and a pack of matches. He struck a match and lit the cigarette, the smoke filling the air. Makarov breathed in a breath of smoke and let out a long sigh. He didn't smoke because he was addicted, but rather when he needed to pass the time or when he was stress. It seem to be the one thing that could calm his nerves.

"You know those things can kill ya…" Anatoly warned."

"Hmph, I don't think smoking should be my biggest worry in my line of work Anatoly." Makarov replied

"I'm just-

Anatoly was interrupted by another knock at the door. Both men once again focused their attention at the metal entrance.

"Ah, that must be Victor!" Anatoly proclaimed.

Anatoly rushed to the door and quickly got it opened. The door opened to not one men but two standing in the doorway, a bag swung over his shoulder. He quietly walked into the room and Anatoly quickly shut the door behind him.

Makarov was pleasantly surprised when he saw not only Victor, but Yuri as well. "It good to see you again Victor. Yuri." Anatoly greeted.

Victor only nodded and looked over towards Makarov. His gaze met his, and Makarov recognized his dark, cold eyes. He had a dark shaven head with tattoos clearly visible on his neck. Cool, collected and quiet, Victor could easily be described as Anatoly opposite. Victor always held a serious, mature tone, putting his work before everything. The man was determined, as well as a cold blooded killer. He was also one of the few that could disarm someone who was pointed a weapon directly at his face, an important life saving skill that both Makarov and Anatoly were very familiar with. Makarov had learn to fight with his hands before he ever held a gun, a lesson that had saved his life countless times and countless times to follow.

"Victor."

"Makarov"

"Its been nearly a year, correct."

"More or less."

Makarov put out his cigarette. "I assume you had no problems getting here?"

"None."

"Good, just what I'd expect"

"Are we going tomorrow?" Victor asked anxiously

"No." Makarov answered. " We still need to go over the plan as a group."

Victor sighed. "Whatever, just so long as were not sitting in this hole for a week."

"Trust me, I want to get out of here as much as you, but I'm not taking an unnecessary risks."

Victor simply shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder and taking his leave. Yuri soon followed, a small smile on his face.

"Can't really get used to him," Yuri said, closing the door and redoing the locks. "How have you been my friend?"

"Surviving Yuri, as best one can."

Yuri. A man that Makarov trusted with not just this operation, but maybe his life as well. He had no doubt owed his life due to his line of work, so such a claim won't be false. Makarov put his trust in few, even his closest comrades. Somehow Yuri possessed a rare trait that allowed such a trust to exist.

Yuri was average looking, and he seemingly hadn't aged a day since Makarov seen him nearly five years ago since Zakhaev's death. Afterwards, they had went into hiding, trying to avoid the power struggle that followed after the civil war. Though he would never admit it openly, he was glad to see him again.

"Is everyone here or are were still waiting on your man?" Yuri asked.

"Nope, everyone has arrived Yuri-" Anatoly started.

"No, he hasn't arrived yet." Makarov interrupted.

Both stared in confusion "Other guy?" Anatoly asked in confusion. "Makarov what are you-

Anatoly was interrupted again by the familiar pattern of knocks at the door. Anatoly looked in confusion from the door to Makarov and Victor. Makarov hadn't told Anatoly, Lev, or Krill about Allen or his meeting with Shepherd. They would know sooner or later anyway, it would be just easier this way.

"Anatoly, I'll get the door." Makarov said.

Anatoly only nodded as Makarov walked to the steel door and unfastened the locks. Makarov opened the door to see a tall, slender, dark haired young man with olive tone skin and green eyes. His gaze went met Makarov's in silence.

"Alexei Borodin I presume?"


	5. Controlled Chaos

**Chapter 5: Controlled Chaos**

* * *

Makarov stared right into the eyes of the final member of the team, the so called "inside man" Shepherd had referred to. Allen was the same height as Makarov, only slightly shorter, and looked somewhat different then when he had been revealed to Makarov only a couple of weeks before. Nevertheless, Makarov had Joseph Allen standing before him, not knowing that he already had his cover blown before the two had met.

Makarov would need to be careful. For all he knew, Shepherd could have Allen working as a hit man, with Makarov as the target. But then again, why go through all the trouble of meeting a proposing such a plan to him in the first place? If Shepherd wanted him dead, he could have already tried to. Nevertheless, he would still be cautious around Allen without him suspecting anything.

"You are Alexei Borodin, correct?" Makarov asked again, still waiting for an answer.

"Yes sir, that is correct." Allen replied quickly.

"Well get in here quickly, no need attracting unwanted attention."

Allen swiftly moved pasted Makarov through the doorway into the safe house. Makarov closed the door behind him and locked it for the last time. As he finished with the door and turned around back to Allen, he found him staring at Victor and Anatoly.

Victor narrowed his eyes and just stared back, while Anatoly was still struck with confusion, still waiting for an explanation from Makarov.

Anatoly, this is Alexei Borodin." Makarov introduced.

Allen held out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you Anatoly."

Anatoly slowly shook Allen's hand, still more confused than ever.

"Likewise." Anatoly slowly replied. "Forgive me if I seem rude Alexei, but I didn't know anyone else would be arriving."

"Its fine, don't worry about it." Allen replied.

Alexei is going to be assisting Lev as a support gunner. Makarov explained. "Seeing as it would be more efficient to have two instead of relying on Lev."

"I see." Anatoly said. He turned back to Allen. "Well nevertheless, welcome to this hell hole we call home Alexei! Here let me show you were you'll be staying. It's not much but, well, you know, it'll do…"

Anatoly led a now confused Allen towards the kitchen and down the back hallway, leaving Yuri and Makarov alone in the living room.

"You think he suspects anything?" Yuri Asked.

Makarov smirked. "Who, Allen or Anatoly?"

Yuri gave a small rare smile. "Good point."

"As much as I hate it, I think it would be best that we leave Anatoly in the dark about Allen, as well as the others." Makarov said. "And still watch your back around him too, but don't cause him to get suspensions either."

"Trust me, I understand." Yuri replied. His voice trailed off, still in thought about the situation.

"... but Victor isn't that bad, he's just quiet. And then there's Lev and Krill." Anatoly said to Allen as the two returned from the hallway.

"Are they here as well?" Allen asked.

"Well yes, but um, Lev kinda tripped and fell pretty hard and Krill and a bad headache so they retired early."

"That's gotta hurt." Allen said

"Ya, it sure looked like it did…" Anatoly replied.

Anatoly shifted his attention from Allen back to Makarov.

"Well, I got Alexei settled in Makarov." Anatoly proudly proclaimed.

"Congratulations." Makarov replied sarcastically. "Now that that important task is done, we can get some sleep for tomorrows work."

Anatoly only sighed "If you say so."

HE returned to his quarters as Allen, Makarov, and Yuri quickly followed suit.

"7:00 AM sharp." Makarov told everyone as they headed to their rooms. "And don't even think about oversleeping Anatoly"

"Yes sir, I wouldn't dare." Anatoly replied with a grin and disappeared into his room.

Makarov closed his bedroom door and set the alarm. He looked forward tomorrow, despite having to wait another day. Not only the fact that it would bring him only a day away to the start of the biggest catalyst in his rise to power, but the fact that they would be actually working on it as a team.

To Makarov, it was good enough for him to keep him satisfied.

" _Two days, two days, two days..."_ Makarov repeated in his mind over and over like a lullaby.

" _Two days Zakhaev_ …" and Makarov drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next day, Makarov was well up before the Seven, eager to get to work. Surprising, Makarov found Victor up as well, just as ready as he was. Not surprising however, was the face Anatoly was still asleep.

Makarov briefly knocked on everyone's doors, signaling to everyone to get up. Allen was up within a minute after Makarov's knock. Anatoly however, hadn't moved an inch.

 _If I'm going to have this hard of a time getting Anatoly up, it's going to be a living hell for me trying to get Krill and Lev up._

Makarov again knocked on Anatoly's door, this time much harder.

"Seven O' clock, _Sharp"._ Makarov said to Anatoly from the other side of the door. The sound of Anatoly's groan and a shuffle of footsteps told Makarov he was getting up. Lev and Krill must have had heard Makarov's warning as they too were soon up.

Allen was sitting at the table in the living room, observing the countless blueprints and photographs Makarov had collected on the Airport. The table was not only littered with only building plans, but incoming flight times, number of employees and shift times, high and low traffic hours, and security data. Makarov had looked over them many times and had them memorized by heart. It would be his job to make sure his team knew their respective jobs just as well.

Anatoly walked over to the table were Allen sat and offered him a coffee. He politely accepted it and the two engaged in conversation. Victor had retreated to the bathroom; taking medicine for an illness Makarov noticed would come up from time to time. He didn't fully understand what was wrong with Victor, but he noted he would get headaches to the point where he would nearly black out, a liability Makarov did not want to deal with tomorrow. But Victor had assured him it wouldn't be a problem, and Makarov took his word for it.

Lev and Krill were also suffering from headaches; only the culprit was the fact that they were simply hung over. Lev now had a huge swollen bruise on his face, and Krill was rubbing his forehead in pain and looked like he'd gotten little to no sleep. Both men steered clear of Makarov and quietly sat down at the table. Lev was the first one to notice the new face.

"Who the hell are you?" Lev asked, eying Allen.

Allen opened his mouth and was about to answer when Anatoly cut him off and answered for him.

"Lev, this is Alexei Borodin. He arrived after you went to bed.

Lev carefully eyed Allen. Allen simply stared back and shot out his hand in greeting.

"Ya, nice to meet you Alexei." Lev answered, ignoring Allen's handshake. "As much as I _love_ to chat with you, I kinda would like some peace and quiet as a try to recover from my night of hell."

Allen couldn't help but notice Lev's bruise. "You fall down the stairs or something?"

Lev shot Allen a glare. "Ya, aren't you funny ya little shit."

Allen only reaction was confusion to Anatoly. Anatoly only smiled to himself and shook his head. Lev was anything but a social butterfly, especially when he was hung over.

Victor returned from the bathroom, handkerchief in hand, quietly coughing into it. Makarov easily noticed blood on the white cloth. That would always be the first sign. Victor would start to cough just a little, then a lot, then to the point where blood would come out and he couldn't control himself. Makarov could only in imagine the pain the Victor was in. He slowly walked over the meeting table and carefully sat himself down.

Lev smirked. "You look like your gonna keel over any second there Vic."

Victor shot Lev an Icy glare. "You look like you fell down a flight of stairs."

Yuri narrowed his eyes across the table. "Just don't pass out going up the steps tomorrow."

"I'd be more worried about you." Victor defended himself. "Considering all the experience you clearly showed last night, I mean in _passing out drunk_."

Anatoly and Allen were clearly enjoying the fight between the two, with Lev getting angrier by the minute. Krill only shook his head and rubbed his forehead, clearly in too much pain to care to do anything and not wanting any involvement in Lev's debate especially after last night.

"At least my health is normal unlike yours, which seems to me like it's going to be the death of you tomorrow." Lev retorted.

"And at least my brain is normal unlike yours, which _will_ be the death of you tomorrow." Victor replied coldly.

Lev was about to speak when Makarov approached the table, ending the argument between the two permanently.

All eyes were on Makarov, ready to get started. Makarov glanced up at all of them.

"All right, let's begin."

* * *

It was late in the evening when they finished. Makarov told each man their job and what points they would be covering. Overall, each man would support another, and all of them would be supporting Makarov himself. Allen covering Victor, to make sure his would be closely watched, Lev supporting Krill, and Makarov in the center, commanding the group itself.

Each man had memorized the blueprint of the entire airport, every door, every window, every shop was now imprinted into their minds. They all retired early to be at full strength for tomorrow.

Makarov's mind was on Zakhaev, wishing he were still alive to witness his finest moment, to see him do what Zakhaev never achieved. Makarov was now only a day away from revenge, not just for him , but soon to be all of Russia.  
_

He had similar dream again, but it was different this time.

They stood in front of a large crowd, Zakhaev addressing the people, giving a speech that caused an uproar of glorious cheers and jubilation. Makarov was watching from behind, wearing a masterfully tailored suit, enjoying the attention and excitement of the moment.

He couldn't hear the words Zakhaev spoke, but it mattered little. Everyone in the crowd cheered with each word, their voices crying out victory for the ultranationalists.

Makarov closed his eyes, enjoying the victorious moment. All their work, he hadn't been for nothing.

A crack rang out, causing the scene infront of him to change. All went silent in an instant, and Makarov opened his eyes to a different picture. Zakhaev stood hunched over the podium, his hand gripping his coat tightly in pain.

His face was covered in sweat, his eyes filled with dread. As he fell, his stare met Makarov's in utter shock, and with his final breath, spoke his last words.

"You. You killed me Vladimir."

Zakhaev collapsed, and Makarov quickly rushed to his side. "Zakhaev!" Makarov cried out, clutching his mentor, trying to revive him.

 _How? Why? What did he mean? How did I kill him?_

He then remembered the gunshot. He glanced over his shoulder to look for the assassin. The killer he saw caused even him to freeze in shock.

There stood Yuri, pistol aimed at Makarov, the barrel still smoking. His eyes were cold, unremorseful and unforgiving. These were eyes Makarov had never seen his friend show.

Yuri cocked the hammer back, placing his finger on the trigger.

"Goodbye, my friend."

A lone shoot rang out.

Then darkness. Nothing.

Makarov woke to a cold sweat, his entire body shaking. He feverously checked his torso for a bullet wound, but there was none. He was back in the real world, and all was well once again.

He was so out of it he barely noticed his cell phone vibration on the nightstand next to him. He reached over, wondering who would have the audacity to contact him at such an hour.

The number was listed as unknown, and was only a text. As Makarov opened it, his suspicions behind the identity of the sender were confirmed.

"You have another traitor in your midst. Signed, S."

Shepherd. Of course. But what could he gain from sending such a thing?

Makarov stared at the screen, then thought to his men, beginning to fabricate an elimination process to find the answer to Shepherd's text.

'Alexi Borodin was obviously out. As of Lev and Krill, they seemed the likely candidates to an outsider, but the two had already been paid. Unless they had been offered a better price, which was unlikely, as Makarov had done all his research before reaching out and offering them a job. And besides, two men going out to get drunk seemed unlikely to be planning on carrying out a betrayal.

Then there was Anatoly, who Makarov couldn't see betraying him on account of loyalty. Besides, the man didn't hide his emotions well. If there was something off, Makarov would have already sensed it.

That left the two most likely candidates, Victor and Yuri. The two definitely had the skill potential to carry out such a lone yet difficult task. Both men were loyal to their cause, but there was nothing Makarov could think of that would point to a betrayal. Victor simply had no reason, and Yuri was more loyal then the rest. He had been there from the beginning, but still.

Makarov couldn't help but think back to that dream, Yuri holding the pistol, aimed at his so called friend's head. Was this a sign, or-

The phone vibrated, breaking his concentration. Another message, this time an audio file from the American general.

Makarov opened the text, listening in darkness to the audio. It was a man's, a voice familiar to him, giving him the answer and reveling the identity to his betrayal.

 _"This plan, this idea of his is pure madness! All of our victories for such an outcome? Its madness! I'll stop him. I have to stop him. Even if it means killing him. Even if it means killing my friend…_

Another text from Shepherd soon followed. _"I'll leave this to you."_ Was the only reply that followed.

Makarov closed the phone and stared into the darkness. It was confirmed.

He knew what he had to do.

Makarov once again up before everyone else, just as before, Victor being right behind him. Makarov knocked on everyone's door to get everyone up. Allen was once again the first one, and lucky, Anatoly was close behind him. Lev and Krill soon followed.

Yuri however, was conveniently absent.

Silence filled the safe house during the morning. Each man took a brief shower and had a simple breakfast . No one spoke as the men ate in silence. After the brief meal, each man went back to their rooms and got dressed. Everyone had brought their own suit, as it was one of the requirements Shepherd spoke of. Makarov pulled his black tailored suit and matching pants and quickly put them on over a white button up dress shirt. He then gathered up his belongings and headed to the door but stopped to look in the mirror at himself.

It felt like déjà vu as he had done the same ritual only four days ago, and he felt like he was staring back at a different man. It was the day, it Makarov was glad of it.

Makarov found everyone dressed and ready to go as he came out of his room. Each man wore their suit and had a duffel bag on their shoulders.

Yuri was there as well, in a navy suit, bag in hand.

"Were ready when you are sir."Yuri said.

"Makarov was careful not to show any sign of suspicion. "Let's go."

Anatoly opened the door and the men proceed outside to the ambulance.

"Anatoly" Makarov said, throwing him the keys. Anatoly nodded and got in the driver's seat, Makarov riding shotgun. Victor and the others pilled in the back.

Makarov threw his duffel back to Victor. "Get everyone's bags packed. Make sure nothing is missing."

Victor and Allen started taking account for every piece of equipment they would use and gave it to Lev and Krill for packing into the duffel bags.

Makarov checked his watch. _7:15_. It would take a good 30 minutes to get to the Airport. Makarov turned back to Anatoly. "Lets get going."

Anatoly turned the ignition and drove out of the alley, en route to Zakhaev International Airport.

* * *

As the van got closer to the drop off point, Makarov reviewed the plan one last time.

"Remember what we went over." Makarov said to everyone in the van. " Support one another and follow my lead."

Everyone nodded in unison. "We have a strict time schedule, so don't linger in one spot for too long. Makarov continued. "Were sending a message here too, so if someone is in you way, you know what to do.

Victor and the others nodded, Allen just started at floor, silent and still.

"And finally, no Russian what so ever, all Verbal commands will be issued in English, nothing else."

"Were here, this is as close as I can take you." Anatoly informed.

"It'll do, Everyone out now." Makarov ordered.

Everyone got out and proceeded to the back of the ambulance. Makarov pulled out the key and opened up the back doors.

"Anatoly, get the bags."

Anatoly hopped in the back and started to unload the duffel bags packed with weapons and other tools of destruction, handing them to their respective owners.

"Victor." Anatoly said, handing him his bag.

Victor politely nodded and took the bag, Lev walked up behind him.

"Here ya go Lev." Anatoly said, hand Lev his bag.

"Thanks Anna." Lev replied in a mocking tone.

Anatoly glared, annoyed by his nickname from Lev and reached for the new bag,

"Krill."

Krill accepted the bag with silence, swinging the bag over his shoulder, proceeding back over to Lev. Yuri now walked up to Anatoly.

"Thanks Anatoly." Yuri said, taking the bag. "See you soon."

Anatoly nodded with a smile. "Of course friend!" He reached for the final bag.

"Alexei." Anatoly said as he handed Allen his bag.

"Good Luck my friend, I'll see you when you get back." Anatoly added , shaking Allen's hand.

Allen gave a nervous smile and shook back. "Likewise."

" _Not Likely…"_ Makarov thought to himself, still remembering Shepherd's deadly deal. Hopefully he won't have to do the dirty work himself. Either way, it mattered little.

Allen went back to the group and Makarov now stepped towards Anatoly.

"Here you are Makarov, good luck"

"You know what to do Anatoly?"

"Of course. I'll pick up Langley and parked a couple blocks away until I hear the alarms, then I'll wait at the end of the tarmac's cargo entrance.

"Good man." Makarov replied, swinging his bag over his shoulder and proceeded over to the group. The thing weighed a ton, but necessary none the less.

"Just don't keep me waiting!" Anatoly called to Makarov.

"Don't worry Anatoly, I've got the moves already planned."

Makarov joined the group and proceeded around the block. The Zakhaev International Airport came into view as they headed around the street. " _Finally, almost there."_

Makarov started into a brisk walk. "Lets pick up the pace." He ordered and soon the others matched his pace.

The group reached the entrance to the parking garage that would led them to the the entrance. Makarov had the route memorized in his mind, but was only thinking about Yuri. When would he decide to betray everyone? How would he do it? Nothing could keep his attention away from his so called friend.

Yuri approached the employee access. The door was locked, but he made quick work of it with a lock pick and finesse.

"Done, were in."

Makarov simply nodded. "Good work, lets go."

The group went through the door and down the flight of stairs. Yuri was glancing around, eying the men as he trotted down the steps. Makarov couldn't wonder what was going through his friend's mind. If there was any doubt, a plan was forming that could spell the death of everyone.

They finally made it to the parking garage. Except for a few park cars, everything was still and silent.

Makarov walked behind everyone, silent like a ghost. His hand was in his pocket, his finger gripped tightly on the trigger.

There was no more time left. The risk was too high to take chances. This operation would be successful. No doubt about that.

He would have to kill his comrade, his friend. It would happen.

He was ready.


End file.
